


Louder Than Words

by losyanya



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Implied First Kiss, Kissing, Lack of Communication, M/M, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens), Vignette, to the canon-typical degree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28181670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/losyanya/pseuds/losyanya
Summary: It's the Blitz - the church is destroyed, the books are saved, the lift home is offered... the next thing to do would be to talk about it all. But talking is notoriously hard.-------The (much delayed in posting, very lightly edited) entry for the Round 6 of the Name that Author of the GO events Discord server, for the prompt "No conversation's a good place to start... I wanna speak in tongues" from lyrics of "Speak in Tongues" by Ferras
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Louder Than Words

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [werebear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/werebear) for beta reading and encouragement! And as always, thank you to the GO-Events Discord server for organizing the NTAs, for cheering, support and overall warmth!

The whole drive Aziraphale looks like he just had a bomb dropped on him. 

To be fair, he had.

Silence stretches like a rubber band. Crowley isn’t sure what he expected — he had no expectations — hadn’t thought this far forward. Commentary on the Bentley, perhaps, questions about what transpired at the church… even resumption of their last argument. That seemed plausible.

He hasn’t prepared for dead air. 

Aziraphale is still, yet practically vibrating with… something. His face is open but bewildered, the underlying emotions indecipherable. And he seems… petrified. But Crowley knows better than to advise an angel to fear not.

“Something’s got your tongue?” It lands wrong; he winces but continues, indefatigable. “That saying, er.. A cat! Weird, cats don’t hunt tongues...”

That earns him a brief stare. One part exasperation, three parts fondness, four parts panic. Shaken. What kinda cocktail is that.

As the Bentley pulls up to the familiar door, Crowley braces for Aziraphale to bolt. But the angel remains in place, surprises him with direct eye contact, bright eyes intense, reaching. “Come in?” Two heartbeats. “Please.”

Alright. That ground is no less sacred, but at least it doesn’t singe his feet.

Soon as the door is closed, Aziraphale whirls to face him. “I really should tha— **”**

“You  _ really  _ should not.” Those sea-water eyes are so shiny. Too shiny. Tide rising. Crowley rushes to amend, tripping over words, “Just trying to lay low, there’s enough happening without my… contribution. The bomb’s easy to explain away, the books harder, and your gratitude — don’t wanna draw attention — we’ve discussed,  _ you know. _ ..”

“Discussed, yes, back...before...” Angel swallows hard, tries again. “Should I… apologize?” 

“Why — did you change your mind?”

Finally, an expression Crowley can read. Sorrow. No remorse. Aziraphale shakes his head sharply.

“Well then.” Oh, Crowley may have been wrong about this ground not burning. “Look. You don’t need to say you're sorry, you don’t need to tell me  _ anything— _ ”

“No?” Aziraphale sways forward, closing the distance. He looks even more earnest, fierce, a barely contained maelstrom, and Crowley's heart skips and flips like a pebble caught in the undertow. "Would you rather have me show?”

Crowley may sometimes struggle with English, particularly the stubborn-principality dialect of English, but he can read this right…  _ right _ ?

So he holds his ground and his gaze.

For a second.

Then he’s swept backward, as if by an inexorable, yet gentle wave. Hands grasping his jacket lapels, in his hair, hot breath on his cheek, and  _ — _ how can it possibly be true that Aziraphale is shorter? Incomprehensible — Crowley feels submerged, surrounded by the angel. Lips against lips, spelling it out in a language that transcends time and place.

_ Let's talk about what  _ **_really_ ** _ transpired in that church  _

_ how much I missed you  _

_ how I wish to never miss you again _

Actions speak louder than words. Crowley can vouch, as the roar of blood in his ears drowns out all sound and thought. The last lingers — given the complexity of the sentiments the angel is currently expressing directly into his mouth, he'd definitely been wrong to accuse that cat. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [losyanya](https://losyanya.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr - please feel free to chat with me about anything and everything!


End file.
